Ad quod damnum
by khateh
Summary: At least once a week, Hermione brought someone to Harry's house and left him in his care while she found a willing master for the unfortunate wizard. Tonight someone new was to come. A post war HBP not compliant HarryDraco fic
1. Chapter 1

Harry went over the list one more time, trying to understand where all the galleons went. It was not that his account at Gringotts was in danger of being emptied any time soon, but the expenses were far beyond anything he had expected. When asked about this, Hermione just shrugged and found another conversation topic.

Harry sighed and took the list of 'incomes', noticing how the sums written there were rarely above five Galleons. All in all, the past three months had cost him two hundred Galleons and had seen sixteen wizards relocated.

Putting the pieces of parchment away, Harry got up from the table and poured himself a cup of tea. At least once a week, Hermione brought someone to Harry's house and left him in his care while she found a willing master for the unfortunate wizard. Tonight someone new was to come.

The wards surrounding the house rippled and a few moments later, Hermione entered, followed by a taller, hooded figure wearing a battered wizard's cloak. Harry moved towards them, lighting a few candles with a flick of his wand.

"Awful weather out there," Hermione said softly, taking off her cloak. She frowned a bit, tilting her head in a familiar way that meant their guest was a difficult one.

"Long trip?" Harry asked, studying the man who had stopped in the middle of the room, head bowed and staring at the floor.

"He was the last one in the North camp," Hermione said as an explanation and Harry nodded. Last one meant immediate transfer to Azkaban.

"Tea?" He moved towards the cupboard, eyes finally moving away from the man whose features remained hidden.

"Yes, please," Hermione said, then turned towards the man and sighed in frustration. "This is getting ridiculous, Draco."

"And you would know all about it, wouldn't you?" The man asked sarcastically. Harry frowned, moving next to him. He took the hood off and studied Malfoy. He was thin, pale and frowning deeply. "Why have you brought me here?"

Hermione sighed and went upstairs, muttering something that Harry did not feel he needed to know.

"I take it she explained the situation to you," Harry said, taking a cup of tea and offering it to Malfoy.

The blond snorted, looking with disgust at the offered cup of tea. "She babbled something."

"Well, she might have mentioned you'll be staying here until we find a suitable… master for you." Harry was not an evil man - he didn't enjoy the fact that other people were forced into this sugar-coated slavery. But they had rescued Malfoy from a life sentence in Azkaban, and the flash of anger that swept over his features when he mentioned the word 'master' was a strange sort of payment for what they did for him. It wasn't their fault he was in this position. "Your room is upstairs; you might want to get some rest after this evening's events."

Without a word, Malfoy went upstairs.

Five days passed and at times Harry felt the urge to go upstairs and make sure Malfoy was still there. He knew he would have felt it if the wards had been broken, or heard him walking or doing something - anything. Food disappeared from the kitchen - once a day and far too little to satiate a grown man. Three candles disappeared from the cupboard every day - though what he could be reading, Harry didn't know. And Hermione left the house crying every night after trying to talk to him - it would always start with 'Draco, please talk to me' and end with something involving 'cruel' or 'awful' or 'heartless'.

On the sixth day, Hermione went upstairs and knocked on the door. "Your master's representative will be here soon. Get ready."

Harry could not remember a time when she seemed more relieved to send someone away. "The master is a shop owner and apparently needs someone to keep track of the products and, well… he was looking for someone smart enough to do it." She smiled, sitting in the armchair that had become hers over time. "I was a bit worried we wouldn't find someone willing to take him."

Malfoy came downstairs, head held high, eyes focused on the door. He looked at the two of them briefly and seemed to want to say something, but instead of that he shook his head and clasped his hands behind his back.

A few moments later, Harry felt a pull at the ward, followed by a knock at the door. Hermione opened it and welcomed inside a short man that resembled Wormtail far too much for Harry's comfort. He had the same ratty teeth, the same way of holding his head and Harry was sure he stuttered. Glancing at Malfoy, he realised he made the same connection and seemed apprehensive.

"This is Mr. Proctor, a representative of Malfoy's master," Hermione said as means of introduction.

The man nodded, smiling in a way that was closer to a pained grimace, and stuttered something about the honor to meet Harry Potter. He took Harry's hand and shook it, babbling about the war and how he knew everything about it, until Hermione cleared her throat and pointed towards a stack of parchment she had brought.

"Ah, yes, of course," the man said, taking the quill she offered.

"By signing this, you agree to take Draco Malfoy into custody, along with his possessions," she patiently explained.

"P-possesions?"

"Yes, he has a change of clothes and…" Hermione turned to Malfoy with a questioning expression. The blond shook his head once and stared at her with unblinking grey eyes.

The scrap of the quill on the parchment was followed by a loud pop as the parchments disappeared to the ministry archives.

Moving towards Malfoy, Proctor took a black scarf from his pocket. It was quite long and a couple of inches wide. "Arms in front of you," the man commanded when he got to Malfoy's side, and after a moment of hesitation, the Slytherin complied. Proctor tied the scarf around his wrists, leaving a longer end dangling. Taking it, Proctor gave it a small tug and grinned. "Your master will be very pleased with his purchase." Turning to Hermione, he smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you very much, and maybe we will work together again."

He then led Malfoy towards the door, holding the end of the scarf the entire time.

"Goodbye, Draco," Hermione said as the two walked outside. She got no response.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and I'm not making any profit from this.

* * *

"If I didn't know you, I'd say you were trying to starve yourself," Hermione said, frowning. She had raided his cupboards and found nothing but tea. "When's the last time you went outside?"

Harry huffed and poured himself tea. "What's there to see outside? I'm not missing anything."

"The ministry is trying to fix things, Harry. You'd be surprised to see the things they've done," she said softly. "Diagon Alley is as colourful and animate as ever."

"Except I'm not in the mood to go there, and, anyway, I thought the ministry was incapable of settling in, changing ministers every week. If I recall well, it was you who told me that." For eight years she had been the most rational person Harry had known and somehow he had been foolish enough to expect for her to stay that way and skip the mind-changing phase.

"They say Arthur might be minister soon," she replied, barely above a whisper.

Harry grimaced. Of all the people he knew, Arthur Weasley was one of the few who were not changed by the war. He was just as enthusiastic, optimistic and trusting as ever. Harry hoped that being minister for a week would not change that. "He's not going to have an easy time," he said out loud.

"I was thinking I could try and help him a bit," Hermione said. "I know enough to be able to make a difference there."

"When's the next wizard coming here? It's been two weeks since Malfoy left," he said, hoping she would not mind the change of subject. He didn't want to say something bad, but he didn't enjoy being told what to do.

Hermione nervously bit her lip and lowered her gaze to the floor. "I've... I've discovered something about that." She paused for a few seconds, then _Accioed_ her bag and took out a copy of the Daily Prophet. Opening it to the last page, she handed it to Harry. "Read the article on the bottom left of the page."

_Yesterday evening one of the reformed wizards was found dead in Knockturn Alley. Witnesses informed us that he was in bad condition and St. Mungo's sources confirmed that his injuries were the cause of death. His master had announced him missing the previous evening._

"Was he one of ours?" Harry asked, folding the newspaper.

"No, but Luna, she works at St. Mungo's now, she said... his injuries were older than a day. They were caused by his master, Harry." She looked at him with pleading eyes, as if she expected him to fix it somehow. "He ran away from his master because he feared for his life."

"It's... it would have been impossible for something like this not to happen."

Hermione looked at him with a strange expression. "What if something like this happened to someone who was here? Someone we had promised a new life to."

"They would have gone to Azkaban," Harry replied. "They would have died there... all of them. This gave them another chance."

Hermione got up and began pacing. "Maybe you're right, maybe all of them would have died there, but I don't think they would have died after being beaten by someone who was meant to help them change." She stopped with her back at him and bowed her head. "We promised them something and we couldn't… we didn't make sure they got what we promised."

Harry sighed and rose from his armchair. "You couldn't have done that. It's impossible to monitor all of them, all the time."

"We didn't do anything." She sighed and moved towards the door. "I'll check in on them and see how…" She took her cloak and paused before walking out the door. "I never thought I could harm someone… like this."

"You don't know anything for sure. For all you know, they could all be living happily-"

"I'll see what I can find out about them." With that, she left, slowly walking away on the cobblestone road.

Harry closed the door and went back to his armchair. If she found one of them who had been mistreated by his master, she would stop taking them away from the camps to be reformed. Harry sighed, drinking the rest of his cold tea. If wizards stopped coming to his house, Hermione would as well and he would be all alone. Maybe he could use a little reforming, too.

Two days later, Hermione firecalled and announced that she would 'drop by' around eight o'clock. Harry prepared dinner, although he was fairly certain they were not going to eat much.

Hermione entered the house at half past eight and handed him a stack of parchment before she took her cloak off. "Read these," she commanded.

The stack consisted of files from St. Mungo's. All of them were full of descriptions of various injuries - severe injuries. The files had no names, but he had a strange feeling he knew who they were. "Are they… ours?"

Hermione nodded solemnly. "I've checked for all of them, and for those that didn't have files at St. Mungo's, I paid a little home visit. They were all right, some of them seemed pretty happy." She bowed her head as if she had just admitted to committing a crime.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I bought one of them back. There was something off, he was too subdued, too docile. I felt that things weren't as they seemed, as the master what to make them look," she said quickly, without looking up.

"Will you bring him here?"

She nodded. "It's Malfoy."


	3. Chapter 3

It was midday and for the first time since moving into this house, Harry was cleaning it up. He had started early in the morning, washing the windows and cleaning the fireplace. Now he was sorting through the things that were thrown around: old Daily Prophets, cans, bottle and boxes and a few discarded pieces of clothing.

Everything could have been done quickly using magic, but the ministry had warned everybody that it was dangerous to use magic these days, that those who abused their powers ended up in medical facilities. Harry wanted to be in one piece when Hermione brought Malfoy, if only to assure her everything would be okay.

- -- - -- -

Malfoy was a little thinner, but otherwise unchanged, at least, as far as his appearance was concerned. He stopped in the middle of the room, staring at the floor as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen and Harry congratulated himself for cleaning the floor thoroughly during his earlier cleaning session.

Hermione sat in her armchair and took out a piece of parchment. "I bought him in your name. This is a copy of the contract. According to it, you should provide him with food and shelter and he has to do what you request of him."

"Is that it?" Even him, who rarely read the newspaper and never went out knew all the ministry propaganda about the new life of the reformed wizards and the rights and freedom they had.

"Yes. The contract between the ministry and owner is different from the one I signed as intermediary," she admitted. "I never thought the two might be different and never checked. I think I was too much of a Gryffindor and the ministry was too much of a Slytherin."

Harry had expected for Malfoy to react to that in some way, but the blond man acted as if nothing had happened. His eyes were staring at the floor, without trace of any emotion.

"I'll be leaving now," Hermione said, getting up. "Arthur will be invested tomorrow and I need to get ready."

Harry accompanied her to the door, knowing that he should be asking a lot of questions about Malfoy and about what he should be doing, but settled for a simple "Bye." If Hermione wanted to say something, she did. The lack of explanations probably meant she didn't know anything more.

"You'll be living in the same room," Harry said after a few moments of awkward silence. He wanted to ask him if he was hungry, but Malfoy would see it as a hint to his thinness. He wanted to ask him if he wanted to take a shower, but that might have been insulting for Malfoy. "I've cleaned it up a bit, and you can do whatever you wish to do with it."

The blond man didn't reply and didn't acknowledge him in any way.

"Malfoy! You can go up to your room," he said a little louder, but still got no reaction. He slowly got up and moved next to him and slowly reached out to touch Draco on the right shoulder. He prayed to every muggle and wizarding deity that Malfoy wouldn't flinch, because he knew he couldn't cope with that.

Harry touched him and sighed with relief when he didn't back away. Malfoy's grey eyes looked questioningly at him. "I said you can go up to your old room," Harry explained. "Do you remember where it is?"

Malfoy shook his head slowly, a small frown showing that he didn't know what to make of the situation.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?"

He shook his head again.

"I just did. Look, Malfoy, I don't know about -"

Draco had turned to look behind him and frowned when he turned back to look at Harry. "We'll have the big talk later, come on." Harry walked up the stairs and paused at the door to the room when he realised Malfoy hadn't followed him.

"Malfoy!" The Slytherin was still in the middle of the room, looking around him in confusion. "You don't know you're Malfoy, do you?" he asked quietly, walking back to him. "I was talking to you. You are Malfoy."

Draco tilted his head and seemed to think about what Harry said. After a few moments, he shook his head.

"Then what's your name?"

Draco shrugged and yawned.

"You should get some sleep." Harry took out his wand, planning to cast a quick _Scourgify_ and get Draco to bed as quickly as possible, but he stopped when he saw the man's scared eyes. "It's okay. I'll clean you up a bit and then you'll sleep."

He raised the wand and watched with horror as Draco melted to floor, whimpering and curling around himself. Quickly putting the wand in its pocket, Harry knelt next to him and awkwardly rubbed his back. "No more wands around you. You'll have an old fashioned bath."


	4. Chapter 4

Harry helped Draco take his robe off and took a step back to give him space to finish undressing himself. He was wearing a black shirt and a pair of old jeans. It was obvious that his former master wasn't very keen on spending money on his charge, but he did provide him with something new.

Draco slowly took the shirt off and then the pants, never taking his eyes away from Harry and the pocket where the wand was. His skin was pale, but surprisingly enough, there were no scars. Harry wanted to use a spell to determine what had been done to Malfoy before he healed so there would be no scars, but he was fairly certain the blond would have another panic attack if he saw the wand. Maybe after he fell asleep.

"Get in the tub and I'll start the water," he instructed softly. After the water started pouring over him, Malfoy seemed to remember what a bath was about and washed himself, obviously enjoying the warm water.

"When's the last time you had a bath?" Harry asked, looking for a big towel in the closet.

Malfoy didn't answer, but looked down, his cheeks turning pink.

"I didn't mean to suggest you were… I was just wondering."

Draco shrugged and moved his hands right under the surface of the water, making small waves. Harry planned to find some little wood blocks and give his guest a fleet to play with.

- -- - -- -

"Warming spells, cleaning spells and _Lumos,"_ Hermione recited. "Those are the spells that his master performed, according to the ministry."

"You've seen how he acts," Harry said, gesturing towards Draco. He was sitting in his favourite spot, under the living room window and was playing with the shadows, twisting his hands to create new shapes. "Something happened to make him act this way, and there are no scars. Even if the injuries weren't caused by spells, the healing had to be magical."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, "If he was injured. Maybe there was no physical harm. I've read articles about muggle children who were locked up in a room, or weren't fed for a long time and -"

"He's not a child. His family… he grew up amongst Death Eaters. Two weeks of that couldn't have got him to be this way. And he's terrified of my wand." She looked questioningly at him, so he explained, "I wanted to cast a S_courgify_ so he could go to sleep sooner, but when he saw my wand pointed at him, he started trembling and curled up on the floor."

"I'll see if I can find out more, maybe they used someone else's wand."

- -- - -- -

Three days had passed since Hermione promised to find out more and there was nothing new. Everyone who ever talked to Malfoy's master has been checked and nothing came out of it. In the meantime, Draco found that he enjoyed drinking everything using a straw and earlier in the morning he found out about the joys of blowing bubbles in his drink.

Bubbles in water had been one thing, but bubbles in pumpkin juice made a strange swamp-like sound that amused Draco and annoyed Harry - having done so for the past ten minutes. "Please stop doing that," Harry asked for the umpteenth time, with no effect. Maybe Malfoy was alright and he was just playing with Harry's mind, trying to drive him insane. "You will stop this now or I'll send you to your room and lock you there!" Harry said in his sternest voice. A bubble blew on the surface of Draco's pumpkin juice. "In your room! Now!"

When Malfoy made no move, Harry grabbed him by the shirt and more or less dragged him upstairs. "You will do as I tell you, do you hear me?" He locked the door from the outside and went downstairs. He would cook and clean the house a bit and give Malfoy time to think about things. That's what everyone did to naughty children, and as far as punishments went, Draco's was very gentle. His room wasn't small, dark, or dusty.

- -- - -- -

Harry was about to give up. Draco was sitting in the bathtub, still as a statue. He had washed himself quickly and then, instead of playing in the water like he did every time he had a bath, he sat there, staring ahead at the wall. Harry tried to make some waves in the bathtub and ended up drenching his own clothes, but Draco didn't react in any way.

"Don't you want to play?"

Draco shook his head, face blank.

"Are you upset with me?" At some point during Draco's first evening here Harry realised the Slytherin didn't talk anymore. He nodded, shook his head, looked at the floor or at the wall in front of him, but didn't talk anymore. Now Harry was expecting for Draco to shake his head or look away. The determined nod surprised him.

"Why are you upset with me?"

Draco shrugged, as if it didn't matter.

"I want to know, that's why I asked you. Are you upset because I sent you to your room?"

Draco tilted his head to the right, then to the left. He pursed his lips, then shook his head.

"But it's related to that." The water was getting cold and goose bumps appeared on Draco's skin. "Here's what we'll do: if I tell you not to do something, you won't do it, and I won't lock you in your room."

Draco seemed surprised by that, but nodded calmly.

"Great then. Let's get you out and warm."


	5. Chapter 5

Many thanks for the reviews :)

I know the pace is a bit slow, but Harry will find a solution, after he's figured a bit more of the puzzle.

* * *

Harry and Draco had settled down nicely, with Draco exploring a bit of the house each day, curiously looking at anything and everything. He found the muggle magazine especially interesting, poking the unmoving pictures with a frown on his face.

"They're not supposed to move," Harry explained, putting down the book he was reading. He kneeled on the floor next to Draco and saw he was looking at a body lotion advertisement. A blond woman was smiling broadly, dressed in a rather fabric-saving swimming suit. "Do you like the way she looks?"

Draco shrugged and turned the page. There was an article about some rich man and his huge rose garden. Draco's features softened as he looked at the pictures and he touched the page gently, as if he expected to touch the flowers. There were small and big roses, white, yellow, red and orange. "Which one do you like most?"

Draco pointed at a picture with big yellow roses and then his fingers traveled over the text, stopping at a paragraph which explained about _Rosa foetida persiana_. Draco looked up at Harry and smiled proudly. The fact that he knew the Latin name of roses was probably an achievement in the Malfoy family, but what Harry found extraordinary what that Draco could, apparently, read.

"You can read?"

Draco nodded, searching for more names to match the pictures with. Harry took Draco's left wrist in his right hand and gently tugged him away. "We need to do something more important now."

They went to the study together and Harry took a piece of parchment and a quill. He dipped the quill in the ink bottle and handed both items to Draco. "Write the name of the rose," he instructed.

Draco took the quill and touched the parchment, frowning deeply.

"Go on, write. I won't take points if it's not neat and tidy," Harry said softly.

Draco began writing the first letter. His frown deepened and he bit his lower lip. A moment later, a deep cut opened across the back of his hand and Draco dropped the quill, crying out. He cradled the injured hand to his chest, whimpering.

For a moment, Harry was frozen. His quill was a normal quill and even a blood quill would - his eyes fell on Draco's bleeding hand and he _Accioed_ a jar of healing salve from upstairs. "I'm sorry, Draco. I had no idea this was going to happen."

The blond was rocking back and forth, keeping his hand close to his chest. Harry gently took it and spread the salve on the cut. "It will sting for a few more minutes, but it'll be okay after that." Draco nodded, staring at the floor.

"You do believe me that I didn't know this would happen, right?"

Draco bit his lower lip, but didn't nod or shake his head. Harry picked up the quill and the parchment, ignoring Draco's surprised gasp. He dipped the quill in ink and began writing. Draco touched Harry's writing hand tentatively and after a moment, closed his hand on Harry's wrist, stopping him. "Let's go, then. Living room or bedroom?"

Draco got up and slowly walked towards the stairs, clearly not expecting to be followed. Harry sighed and went to the kitchen, trying to fit the new information into what he already knew about Draco.

* * *

"Blood?" Hermione set her tea cup down with trembling fingers. "The Ministry said there weren't any curses. They scan each person and they said he was ok."

"There are too many strange things going on here. He was obviously cursed, but the Ministry can't find the wand or the curse."

Hermione sighed, looking down, "You should understand that this is not a priority for them and… things are… we found lists of known Death Eaters that were misplaced. None of them were brought to justice and are probably alive and well. There were wands made by a certain Grithom, supporter of Voldemort, that were found in an Auror raid and no one ever looked at them to understand what was going on."

"You think his owner used an unregistered wand and destroyed it after Draco was taken away?"

Hermione nodded, "It's an easy solution for him and he can't be accused of anything."

"Not that the Ministry would actually do such a thing," The Ministry had a long way to go before it did more good things than wrong. "I hope you and Arthur will manage to fix something."

Hermione nodded again, smiling bitterly, "We're doing our best, but you have to understand, they are slaves and there are so many things to do before we can help them."

"How are the others you took away?"

"Oh, they're fine. Three of them are living together with a squib who specialized in such patients and they're progressing really well. In fact, I expect–"

"Do you think I should get someone like that for Malfoy?"

Hermione shook her head. "This is different. He's not acting like an abuse victim, not the way most are. It's obvious something happened, but it's not. He's afraid of your wand and is child-like in his behaviour. He's not afraid to eat or wakes up screaming." She paused for a moment, looking into his eyes. "Does he?"

"No. Except for the wand thing, he's ok. He's watching TV and reading magazines, and I can see he understands what's going on, he's just… it's as if he doesn't care what happens."

"Have you tried finding out more about what happened?"

"I tried to get him to write and his hand split open. I'm afraid of what the revealing charm could do to him."


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Sorry for the delay, I'm moving to another flat and my internet access is suffering from it :)

Many thanks for the reviews and favourites.

- -- - -- -

Harry had been carefully reading the recipe again when the sound of a blade hitting wood made him turn around. Draco was sitting at the kitchen table, chopping the parsley as if he'd been doing it all his life. Harry checked the book and asked him to make the pieces smaller. Draco nodded and in two minutes, Harry had enough chopped parsley to last a couple of months.

He took the big plastic bowl, added the flour, eggs and milk and handed it to Draco. "Stir."

Since then, they spent a couple of hours in the kitchen every day, making one thing or another. After a week, they had managed to master the most difficult recipes and their only worry was choosing something interesting enough. Harry had just put the chicken in the oven to roast when Draco shuffled to him, cook book in hand. He pointed to a sauce with a strange French name and the ingredients laid out on the table.

"You can do that one if you want," Harry said.

Draco shook his head and pointed to the line which said 'Rosemary'. He looked at the table and shook his head.

"We don't have any Rosemary? Ok, I'll go buy some. I should be back in ten minutes."

Draco nodded, smiling. He went back to the table and began slicing a tomato.

- -- - -- -

Harry cursed Colin Creevey as he Apparated to his front door. The man didn't know when to give up talking. After forty minutes, Harry knew enough things about Colin to last a lifetime and had promised himself he was never going to stop to talk to him again.

He walked in and was assaulted by a heavy, grey smoke. "The chicken," he muttered and dashed for the kitchen. He hadn't installed all the muggle fire-detector devices, because he had magic and until now, he had never needed them. He turned off the oven and cast a quick freshening charm on the kitchen. The chicken was burnt beyond salvation, but at least the room was in one piece. All he needed to do now was find Draco.

The blond wasn't in the kitchen or living room, so Harry went upstairs, to his room. There were no signs of Draco anywhere. Leaving the room, Harry called for him. He went back to the kitchen to find something to eat, listening carefully.

A couple of minutes later, he heard steps on the stairs and Draco walked in, sobbing. His fingers were curled and his hands were held close to his chest, in the same protective way he held them when the quill cut his hand.

"Draco, what's wrong?"

Draco sniffed loudly and gestured with his head towards the oven.

"Yes, I came later than I said I would and the chicken's burnt. Were you scared of the smoke?"

Draco extended his right hand and showed Harry his right palm, which was covered in red blisters. 

"You… you realised it was burning and wanted to get it out," Draco nodded. "But you didn't know how to open the oven door, because I never showed you. You touched the glass."

Draco nodded again. Harry took his left hand and saw it was covered in blisters, as well.

"I'm sorry, Draco, I didn't…" Harry sighed and tried to remember what he could do in such a case. Taking him to St. Mungo's was out of the question. No one there would hide their wands for Draco's benefit. "Go to your room and wait for me there, I'll come fix them."

He quickly went to the potions cupboard and took the strongest one he had. Harry knew from experience that it was quite painful, but he imagined it wouldn't be worse than touching the hot surface of the oven door with bare hands. 

Draco was in his room, sitting on the bed, looking down. Harry was certain he was in pain, but there was something else there, something that kept Draco hidden until he was called for.

"I'm going to put this on the burn," he explained, opening the small jar. "It will sting, more than the one for your cut, but it will heal nicely." Draco dutifully presented both palms and looked away. As Harry began applying the salve, Draco hissed a bit, but didn't pull his hands away.

"You did very well," Harry praised when he was done. Draco smiled a bit, then stared at his palms and the green colored cream on them.

"I don't know if you heard me in the kitchen, so I'll apologize again. I shouldn't have left you here with something you didn't know how to operate and I should have come on time. It's my fault you got those burns."

Draco tilted his head to the right, confused. 

"You wanted to help, right?" Draco nodded. "And you did the only thing you could think of. It's my fault you didn't know what to do, and it's my fault you had to do something in the first place."

Draco smiled and shrugged, then got up and walked downstairs.

- -- - -- -

Harry was looking in the cookbook for a recipe for which they had enough ingredients, while Draco was sipping tea through a straw. He was sorting the vegetables for a salad when he heard a thud and the chair hitting the floor. He turned around to see Draco on the floor, shaking. Harry quickly pushed the chairs and table away and crouched next to him. For the first time, this was something he recognized.

During the war, they had managed to rescue members of the Order, who had been held captive by Death Eaters. Several of them had seizures like the one Draco was having. Madam Pomfrey had concluded that they were caused by Dark Spells, especially by the Cruciatus Curse. They usually lasted a few seconds, and the only thing anyone could do to help, was make sure they didn't hit something during their convulsions.

After a few moments, Draco stopped trembling and curled up with his back to Harry.

"I… You'd be more comfortable in your bed. I'll carry you upstairs. Is that ok?" 

After a few moments, Draco nodded weakly and Harry scooped him up, quickly taking him upstairs. Draco lay down, closing his eyes.

"Did this happened before?"

Draco nodded, showing Harry four fingers.

"Can you sleep now? I could bring you a potion to -"

Draco shook his head and turned his back to Harry, settling for sleep. A couple of minutes later, he was asleep.

Harry went downstairs and retrieved the Dark Spells books he had and all his notes on what Madam Pomfrey had told them about taking care of someone affected by them. He then went to Draco's room and transfigured the small wooden chair to an armchair and began reading.

- -- - -- -

After three hours of reading, Harry closed the large book on Unforgivables and got up to stretch his muscles. He had no doubt the spell that wasn't allowing Draco to write was Dark Magic and something similar was probably the reason why he couldn't speak. For as long as those curses were active, Draco would continue to have seizures.

The curse on Draco wasn't a common one, and the odds that Harry would find it by reading random books were slim. Even if he did find something similar, he had to know for sure that it was the same curse; the results of saying the counter curse for a different one could be disastrous.

Harry sat down again and picked up Professor Snape's tattered journal on Legilimecy.


	7. Chapter 7

It was mid day when Draco finally woke up. He yawned mightily and stretched, not noticing Harry. When he finally turned to get out bed and saw him, Harry smiled. "How are you this morning?"

Draco tilted his head to the right and shrugged.

"I've been thinking about what's going on and I think I have a solution. I'll wait for you downstairs to have breakfast and then I'll tell you about it."

Draco nodded and Harry left him to get dressed and do whatever he did as a morning routine. Harry had prepared breakfast early that morning, when he ate it, and had left Draco's waiting for him on the table. He set to make coffee for both of them and waited for Draco to come.

A few minutes later, Draco walked into the kitchen, staring at his palms. They were healed, but kept a reddish color, mostly because of the salve, and he explained that to Draco. The blond nodded and sat down to eat. The first days after coming, Draco ate a slice of bread and a bit of cheese; after a few shared meals, Harry had realised that Draco ate better if they were eating at the same time, and he usually ate what Harry ate.

When asked about it, he shrugged and kept eating, but Harry remembered to wait for him or pretend to eat, as well. Today, Draco was eating alone, as much as if they were eating together. He was finally trusting Harry, and that put more weight on his shoulders.

Draco was about to choose what jam to have when he looked up at Harry, frowned, and began putting the food away. Without waiting for Harry, he went to the living room and sat on the couch. Harry took his mug of coffee and followed him, trying to remember all the things he wanted to say to him in his well-thought explanation.

He sat next to Draco and began, "I've had friends who had seizures like the one you had yesterday, and I know how painful they are. We've been looking for a way to prevent them, with charms, or potions, but they're not very effective, especially when a dark curse is in place." Draco was looking at him with a neutral expression.

"The spell on your hand, the one that made the cut on your hand… that's a dark curse. Anything we try to do to help while that is still active won't work. Do you understand that?"

Draco nodded, but suddenly didn't seem very pleased by the way Harry's speech was progressing.

"I can't stop the curse before I find out what it is. Can you tell me what it is?"

Draco shook his head vehemently.

"I thought so. Well… there is another way." Harry slipped his hand in his jeans' back pocket where he had his wand and slowly took it out, eyes never leaving Draco's. "I would do it another way, but there isn't any. _Legilimens_"

For a moment, Harry thought he could see recognition in Draco's eyes, but then he was inside Draco's mind, seeing him pacing in front of the oven door, chopping parsley, playing in the bathtub, studying Hermione in a foreign house. Harry focused on this memory and the one before it, of a bald man with yellow teeth grinning and saying something in a language he didn't understand. The man took the wand he was using and _Incendioed_ it using another wand.

Before this memory he could find nothing but a black mist, swirling around him. Harry gathered all his strength and pushed past it, until he saw the same man holding a wand at Draco and casting a strong _Obliviate_. But before he could locate the memories of the spell Draco was under, he found himself on the floor, staring at Draco, who was violently vomiting.

Harry shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. He would have needed a few moments to find them, and he had been in control. He should have been able to finish it in one session.

Draco stopped retching and looked at him with a mixture of disappointment and anger, then ran upstairs, locking the door. There was no point in going after him now. Maybe later, when all was done, he could explain why he needed to do it. Maybe when all was done, Draco would have himself back and an explanation wouldn't be necessary.

Harry slowly got up, retrieved Snape's journal and began to read. 'The only two ways in which a Legilimency session can be terminated are if the caster ends the spell or the one it is cast upon fights back.' Harry hadn't consciously ended the spell and he felt no weakness to cause the spell to end, so it must have been Malfoy.

He got up and sent an owl to Hermione, praying that she'd come soon.

- -- - -- -

Hermione had listened to his explanation and after he was done, she began studying Snape's journal.

"According to this and what you told me, he fought back and threw you out. Now, I believe that wasn't a conscious, rational action, but rather a defense against the invasion."

"But for him to be able to do that, he'd have to be a very good Occlumens."

Hermione nodded, "We know that he's a good Occlumens, and no one ever tested him to find out just how good. This would explain something else, as well. How strong was the Obliviate cast on him?"

"Very. I'm surprised he remembered anything after -" Harry closed his eyes as he understood. When he realised what was going to be cast, Draco occluded, and managed to retain a part of his knowledge - the ones he used everyday and the one about what he feared most.

"Yes. The question is if he will allow you to find the rest of the memories now."

"I don't think he can fight me. As far as I know, he can't do wandless magic, especially not non-verbal. I have to finish this, and I think the sooner I do it, the better."

Hermione nodded reluctantly. "I'll wait for you here."

- -- - -- -

The door was still locked, but after a quick Alohamora, Harry found himself in Draco's room. The blond was sleeping in the clothes he had been wearing earlier, on top of the bedclothes. It was as if he hadn't had the energy to get under the covers, and remembering how tired he had been after some Occlumency lessons, Harry could understand.

This was one of the things he had been counting on when he considered doing this: Draco would be too tired to properly fight him, and he would fall asleep immediately afterwards, giving him time to fully understand the situation and weigh is options.

Harry sat in the armchair he had transfigured the previous night and took out his wand. _Ennervate_. Draco opened his eyes, surprised, and looked at Harry. Before he fully remembered what had happened, Harry cast _Petrificus Totalus_, and saw Draco's features become rigid.

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this. There isn't another way and even if there were, it's too late for that now. Please don't push me out again. _Legilimens_!"

Harry saw the bald man again, laughing. _Crucio_. Draco's room was small and dark, a lot like Harry's cupboard at the Dursley's. There was a bowl of some porridge that Draco threw at the wall, then crumbled under another Cruciatus curse. Harry moved through the memories, seeing the man do everything in his power to make Draco's life miserable. He focused to find the significant memories, the ones that Draco was fighting to keep hidden.

The man was looking down at Draco, telling him he was weak. He took his wand and cast _Confundo Memoria_. Draco began writhing on the floor as if he had been hit with a pain spell. Harry quickly exited the memory and went back to the first day Draco had spent with his master.

After a rather lengthy rant about how low Draco had fallen and how he was useless, the man touched Draco's forehead with his wand and murmured _Interdicere transitio_. He touched Draco's lips and whispered _Flagellare articulo_, then Draco's hands and said _Caedere ascribo_. The blond collapsed, his eyes closed and body limp.

Harry quickly ended the Legilimency and Petrifying spell and watched as Draco closed his eyes and fell asleep immediately afterwards.

- -- - -- -

Note: My Latin is rusty as best :) Used the online dictionary at http://archives1.archives. and my commonsense to use them.

Confundo Memoria pour together, mix memories  
Interdicere transition forbid communication  
flagellare articulo shortened for flagellare quandocumque articulo whip whenever speaking  
caedere ascribo short for caedere quandocumque ascribo cut whenever writing


	8. Chapter 8

It took Hermione and him three hours to find the counter curse, and one more to make sure they got it right. It was evening when they were done, but judging by the quietness, Draco wasn't awake yet.

"I think we should do this as soon as possible," Hermione said softly, holding the piece of parchment where the counter curse was written.

"Do you want to come upstairs with me? Maybe I won't get it right and… " He'd been waiting for this moment ever since he realised something was wrong with Draco and now when he could finally do something, he was afraid to do it. He was certain he could cast the spells, but he feared Draco's reaction. The old Draco was somewhere under the childish persona Harry had been living with for the past weeks, and if anything was strong enough to bring it back, it was the most recent events.

"I think I should. I'm partly to blame for everything that's happened and if he'll… I should come."

They were both to blame, but Harry wondered if Draco blamed them for the same things they blamed themselves for. 

Draco was sleeping in the same position and he would probably need a few more days to fully recover. He would probably need a very long time to recover.

"Do you want to use Ennervate again?"

"No," Harry sat on the bed and touched Draco's shoulder, gently squeezing it. Draco woke up at once, opening his eyes wide and looking straight at Harry. He moved back a bit, and got into a sitting position.

"We found a counter curse," Hermione said, but Draco's eyes didn't leave Harry. "It should be painless, but we'll have to test it afterwards, and if it doesn't work… you know what happens."

"Do you want to try it by writing?"

Draco shook his head.

"I'll take my wand now and cast the spell," Harry explained. "I have to look at you to cast it, but I won't Legilimize you again."

Draco smiled bitterly and shrugged.

"The Confundo Memoria was cancelled during the Legilimency session," Hermione said, giving the piece of parchment to Harry again.

Pessum dare interdicere transition. Harry touched Draco's lips and hands with his wand. "Can you speak?"

Draco closed his eyes and remained silent for a few moments, then opened his eyes and looked straight into Harry's eyes.

"Get out," he rasped, his voice weak but full of anger.

"Draco, we -"

"Out!" Draco's voice broke painfully and he began coughing, but Harry understood his need to be alone. He took Hermione's hand and left the room with her, closing the door behind them.

"He needs time."

- -- - -- -

Hermione left two hours later and Harry stayed awake most of the night, waiting for a sound from upstairs that would show him that Draco wanted to talk. He finally fell asleep around four in the morning on the couch in the living room.

- -- - -- -

Harry woke up, a smell of freshly made eggs and bacon filling the living room. Draco was in the kitchen, quietly eating. There was another plate, filled with food. Harry sat on his stool and began eating. He figured Draco would pretend that nothing had happened or begin the conversation about what had happened.

When the breakfast was finished without either of them saying a word, he wished Draco would start speaking soon.

Draco went to the living room and sat on the same spot on the floor, and opened one of the magazines.

"Can I get you anything for your throat, or something?" His voice sounded loud and uncertain, but it could have been worse.

"No." He could barely hear Draco's response.

"I think it would hurt a bit after -" Draco turned around and looked at him, annoyed.

"Get on with it." Harry was certain he was in pain, but knowing the old Malfoy, it would take a while before he admitted it, and this was obviously the old Malfoy.

"I think I should explain a few things." There was no reaction to his words and Harry continued, "I know you're angry with me, but I can -"

"Explain? You can explain -" Draco coughed and took a deep breath. "Explain, then".

"I tried to do my best after you came here, and if you can remember -" Draco nodded, "I hope I managed to make things ok. I didn't know what had happened to you and I thought that I shouldn't do anything for a while, if everything was ok." It was a lot clearer in his mind, and trying to word his feelings was far more difficult than ever before. "I thought you were happy, and I didn't want to mess things up."

Draco snorted, but stayed silent. Harry kneeled close to him.

"When I witnessed your seizure, I panicked, and I realised I had to do something."

Draco shook his head, "You didn't."

"But you were hurting and the curses were only making it worse! I can't -"

"They'll go on, and it's worse now."

Harry frowned, "What is? There are potions, and it will get better in time if you're not exposed to Dark Magic."

Draco shook his head again, "I remember, Potter, I remember everything." He coughed again. "That's worse than a seizure." He got up and Harry quickly followed.

"Do you understand why I did that? Do you forgive me?"

"For that, yes." He bowed his head and walked towards the stairs.

"What else… what is it that you don't forgive me for?"

Draco turned around and looked at him for a few moments, probably trying to make sure Harry honestly didn't know. "You sent me there. You can't help being wrong, but I can't forgive you for being ignorant."

- -- - -- -

Harry didn't see Draco again that day. He heard him moving about, eating in the kitchen and taking some magazines from the living room, but he stayed in his room and turned things over in his head. He had expected many things, but not what Draco had accused him of. And looking back, it was true. He had been ignorant.

Hermione had been too busy trying to place all the former inmates, then with the ministry, but he had had nothing to do. He just waited for something to happen and now he had to deal with it. And Harry feared he wouldn't manage to do it without causing more harm.

- -- - -- -

The next day, they repeated the silent breakfast routine and then Draco went to the magazines again.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to read about?"

Draco shrugged, "New ones would be nice, if you can get any."

"There's a new Quidditch magazine that just came out and I suppose there would be more with manors and -" Draco probably decided that whatever Harry was saying wasn't worth his attention, and he returned to the magazines.

"I thought about what you said, and you're right," Harry said quickly, staring at Draco's back.

"Did you, Potter? You thought about my feelings and agreed with them? How noble of you."

"No! I… I was ignorant and I'm sorry for it. I should have thought about it and -"

"Why didn't you? You thought only the bad Death Eaters can hurt people and you captured them all?"

"I fought the war for so long, I was happy for it to be over!"

"You, Potter, know nothing about the war. You were the Order's tool for it, and because no one explained it to you, you made yourself a nice image of it, with you the wounded hero," He sighed and bowed his head. "You don't know how the war was, or from where it began. You can't understand, so just leave it be."

"And do what? Pretend it never happened?"

"Pretend you had nothing to do with it. That's what I'm doing."


	9. Chapter 9

Harry did his best to do as Draco had requested and went on with his life, as if the two of them were two acquaintances who shared a house. Draco devoured every magazine Harry brought home. After a short visit to a muggle bookshop, Harry brought a few English classics and handed them to Draco, who began reading them.

They barely talked to each other, and when they did, it was 'thanks', or 'no'.

After a week, Draco got up from his spot on the floor and sat next to Harry on the couch.

"You mentioned a potion for the seizures…"

"Did you have one?"

"Last night."

It was the first time when Draco came to ask for something, and the fact that he was voluntarily telling Harry about his condition was a great step. Of course, being the Slytherin that he was, Draco might have taken this approach knowing that Harry would want to help immediately.

"I'll see if I can get any."

Draco clenched his fists and moved a step closer. "You'll see about it? You did all that to help me get away from the seizures and now you'll see if you can get any?" Draco closed the distance between them and grabbed Harry by his shirt, "You fucked up my life and gave me all those memories and now you can't even make it bearable?" Draco shoved him hard, and Harry landed on the floor, bewildered. "If you… " Draco closed his mouth with an audible snap and left the room.

Harry got up and _Accioed _ a piece of parchment. The potion wasn't difficult to brew, but it used rare and expensive ingredients and it was ineffective a week after it had been made. He wrote a letter to Hermione asking for a bottle of it and inviting her for a visit.

- -- - -- -

The purple liquid was thick and unless there had been major improvements in the formula since the war, it smelled awful. According to Hermione, drinking it constantly lessened the frequency and strength of the seizures, and in some cases, it made them stop occurring completely.

Harry knocked on Draco's door and waited patiently for an answer. After about a minute, Draco opened the door, his eyes focusing on the flask in Harry's right hand.

"Is that the potion for the seizures?" Harry nodded, "Come in."

The armchair that Harry had transfigured was still there, with minor adjustments. A small table was next to it, and 'The Idiot' was on it. Harry carefully placed the flask next to it.

"The Healer said you should take a sip every night, before going to bed."

Draco nodded, sitting on his bed. He gestured to the armchair and Harry sat, as well.

"Is it expensive?"

"Hermione's making it, and it's not a common potion, but it's not difficult to get, either." Draco seemed to doubt that, and he continued, "We wanted to do it, we promised we would, and you shouldn't worry about costs, Draco."

"Is that what you've been calling me in your head, Potter? Was it easier to live with me under your roof if I was 'Draco'?"

Harry felt blood rush to his cheeks and he was certain he was blushing. "I couldn't call you Malfoy, not when you were…"

"Playing with blocks of wood in the bathtub? Enjoyed that, Potter?"

It was hard to say exactly what part of what had upset Draco, but it was painfully obvious that something did, and Harry guessed he would take a few insults and hard words from Draco before he would find out.

"You were a pleasant companion, even if you weren't -"

"I was retarded! I couldn't do anything! Do you know what it was like?" Draco was pacing in front of Harry, hands clasped behind his back. He wanted to tell someone, and it was probably twice as difficult for him that the only person he could talk to was Harry.

"No, but I felt you were like a child, not retarded."

Draco snorted, "I was afraid of doing anything, Potter, and I was looking for signs that you liked what I was doing. And I knew that it's not how it was supposed to be, but I felt…" He sat on the bed again, and closed his eyes. "I felt a fear that I couldn't understand and I knew you had a wand."

"I didn't use it to hurt you. Didn't you sense that?"

"Forced Legilimency doesn't hurt, not a bit."

"I meant before, when you first arrived."

"Oh, after I saw you talk to Granger for five minutes, I was supposed to know that you were good kind and helping?" He snorted again, and despite the circumstances, Harry felt happy that he was reacting in his old sarcastic ways. "Good thing I didn't, Potter. You would have hurt my feelings with that surprise Legilimency session." And he had been hurt, despite his precautions.

"You're a good Occlumens," It was safer not to dwell on one topic for too long, especially on such a sensitive one.

"I had a good teacher, and unlike you, understood the importance of learning it quickly and thoroughly."

"Snape taught you, too?"

"No," Draco seemed a bit surprised, but he went on. "My dearest Aunt Bella did, and if it had taken me more to learn, I would have missed a limb for a week."

Harry snorted, but sobered when he saw the serious expression on Draco's face. "You don't mean that, do you?"

"You, Potter, never considered what it was like on the other side. The Death Eaters didn't turn bad in the presence of muggles and were honey the rest of the time." He frowned at some memory and tilted his head, looking at Harry. "If Snape taught you Occlumency, you know him well enough."

Harry nodded, curious to see where this was going.

"Being a Death Eater isn't about hating muggles and muggle-borns, or thinking that the Dark Lord is right. I thought that, but I wasn't a Death Eater."

"What did it take to be a Death Eater?"

"My initiation was supposed to take place on Easter. They brought a muggle and made him kneel in front of me, and I had to torture him," Draco turned his eyes to the floor. "I started with the Cruciatus Curse. I hoped he would lose consciousness, or something, and the Dark Lord would lose interest and get on with things. The man was stronger than I anticipated, and after a minute, I ended the spell. He made my father continue, and it was… You had to agree with them, to be willing to do things their way, and I couldn't."

"Did you want to? Did you want to kill muggles?"

"When you're on a road, built by others around you, you move without thinking. If you stop to look around, what you see might be so frightening, that you…" Draco got up and moved to the window. "I thought about this a lot, when I was in the prisoner camp. I don't know what it is that I wanted then, but I was certain I was going to die in Azkaban."

Harry needed to know if he regretted that he had been with the Death Eaters, but more than that, he wanted to know if he had a chance to be forgiven. "Are you happy that you didn't?"

"I don't think happy is a word that would describe me, Potter," Draco turned around. "I don't think it could describe you, either, but you have your strange view on the world, so I might be wrong."

Silence fell between them, and Harry felt that Draco was waiting for him to speak. "About the Death Eaters… if you… do you…"

"I was ashamed of myself. I can't say for what exactly, but I was, and I was relieved when the Aurors captured me."

Harry smiled, "We thought you were the third most dangerous Death Eater."

Draco smiled bitterly, "Shows how much you knew about the war."

He seemed tired, so Harry got up to leave, "It's the second time you said I didn't know much about the war."

"Would that be of any use now?"

"I think so," Draco bowed his head in acknowledgment, or maybe agreement. "Talk to you tomorrow."

"Good night."

He closed the door and went to his bedroom, feeling happy. They had talked and they were going to talk again.

- -- - -- -

The Idiot was written by F. M. Dostoevsky, and it's one my favourite books. I felt that Harry might buy it for Draco to read :)


	10. Chapter 10

During the next few days, Draco spent all his time writing. He wouldn't say anything about it, just asked for more ink and parchment. Harry had to use all his Gryffindor noble traits to keep from peeking when Draco was away, but after an especially busy afternoon, Draco came to him with an impressive stack of parchments.

"This is what's relevant - about the war and the Dark Lord, in general - that I could think of. Read it, and if you have any questions, let me know." He deposited them on the coffee table and walked to his bedroom.

The top most parchment was about Tom Riddle, his childhood and his evolution into Voldemort. The descriptions were distant, almost objective. Draco had written about his life in the orphanage and how he hated failure, but more than that, those who didn't assume responsibility for their failures.

He wrote about the times when Voldemort was finding supporters, explaining what he knew from Snape and what he knew from his father. There were facts, and Draco knew most of them from others. There were no opinions, no explanations, just facts.

Everything stopped when Draco began preparing to become a Death Eater. And that's what Harry really wanted to know: how it was for him and how he felt about what he did. He left everything there and went upstairs.

It occurred to him that reading all that must have taken quite a lot of time and that it was past midnight, but Draco promptly answered the door. 

Draco went back to the bed and Harry sat in the armchair, without waiting to be invited.

"I presume you have questions."

"Why did you stop writing there?"

"I thought you wanted to understand Voldemort and the war." Draco seemed exhausted.

"I did, but you just enumerated facts. I already knew most of those."

"I believe the perspective was slightly different, though." Draco paused and looked at his hands, as if they held some great answers. "Did it ever occur to you that opinions such as the ones you're looking for are what brought this war on? Nobody ever stopped to think about what matters. You don't want my opinion, you want arguments to confirm your views on the matter or accuse me or the other Death Eaters."

"I don't -"

"Snape wasn't an evil man. Not when he willingly joined the Death Eaters, just as Moody was never a good man. Everyone was caught in a side of the war and marched on."

"What about you? Did you want to be a Death Eater but failed to? Aren't you passing judgment on everyone now?"

"Of course I am! That's why I stopped where I stopped. I can't be objective and I don't want you to become caught in this mess further."

"Be that as it may, I want to know how you saw things."

Draco shook his head and got up from the bed, "I can't give you that."

"Great time for morals. You can't harm anyone and I won't kick you out if you don't agree with me or if you say anything awful. I took you in thinking you did a lot of awful things, remember?"

Draco smiled bitterly and looked at Harry, "You do know the difference between 'can't' and 'won't', don't you, Potter? I can't tell you what happened to me in the Death Eater camp because I don't know anymore. The wonderful master I had before you had been a Death Eater, and he was angry that I had failed at becoming one. The Confundus Memoria he cast on me wasn't meant to help me forget what he did to me, but to mix my memories with his. I don't know what of what I remember was done by me and what was done by him."

"But how could he do something like that?"

"After he cast the spell, I spent most of the time sleeping… if that can be called sleeping. I would dream about Death Eater raids and killings and… "

Harry got up and walked next to Draco. "You said you didn't kill anyone."

"I was there for raids. I don't know if… I don't think I could have, but some of the dreams were real and there were… " Draco's voice was low and it seemed like he was fighting to speak each word. "I can't tell the difference between the real dreams and the spell-induced ones. That's why I've been reading… to see if I could find out about the events, and see if I could have done any of the ones I remember."

"You should have asked me to get you the Daily Prophet."

"Yes, and you would have thought I wanted to do some evil thing."

"Not if you would have explained why you wanted the newspapers. I'm not absurd, I'm just… cautious."

"I can't tell you more," Draco said after a short pause. "If you know how to watch pensieved memories, I could give you a few, but they're flawed… It's your choice."

"I'll think about it." He was hoping Hermione could get him a Pensieve that hadn't been tampered with by ministry officials.

"You said you already knew most of the things I wrote about…"

"Dumbledore knew most of it and he showed them to me."

Draco nodded thoughtfully.

"I was hoping you could… " He sat on the bed heavily and stared at his slippers. "I know how you said you only Legilimized me to know what spell to use to fix me," Harry nodded slowly, "I figured that I could use my returned memories, since I had them back." Harry nodded again, unsure of where this was going. "Well, now that you have no further use for them… Merlin knows I don't… I don't want them anymore."

"What?"

"The memories."

"What are you…"

"I want you to Obliviate me."

"No. I will not let you run away from this like that." Harry stood, preparing to leave.

"You can't say no to me! I can't go with these -"

"You managed just fine until now. We'll get you potions and everything we can to help you, but -"

"It's not everything! This is the only thing I want. I won't take ten potions at each meal when everything can be fixed with a simple Obliviate!" Draco was shouting, but his throat was still sore and his tone lacked the aggression he was aiming for.

"You said that you hated how you were before."

Draco stared at him, unblinking, then sat heavily on the bed.

"Drink your potion and go to sleep. We'll get through this."

Harry closed the door as Draco tossed the pillow at him, cursing loudly. 

- -- - -- -

Draco was silent and morose the entire day following their argument, walking around the house like a grumpy house elf and inspected everything. In the evening, Harry received a formal complaint about the 'deplorable state of this house- if it can be called that', to which he nodded distractedly.

After that, Draco began cleaning the house, complaining about the lack of magic and the difficulty of the task. He mentioned the 'unsanitary owner of the house' and doubled the cleaning potions in the bathroom by owl order. Harry let him have his way, because it kept him occupied and fairly silent.

There had been two seizures, which Draco reported. He said they were better thanks to the potion, but to Harry's surprise, didn't make any further requests to be Obliviated. 

Two weeks after beginning his house cleaning, Draco made it to the library. He closed himself inside and ever once in a while, Harry could hear loud thumping noises. He ventured inside once and was assaulted by clouds of dust.

"What the -"

"The library is in a deplorable state, Potter." Draco had some cloth on his mouth, which prevented him from having couching fits caused by the dust, and made him look remarkably like a muggle surgeon. "I'd say you don't know how to read, judging by how often these books have been handled." Harry could see the smirk behind the cloth mask. "But I know for a fact you've served detentions, and you must have read the detention notes, so…"

Harry turned around to hide his smile and left the library. Things were better than he had dared hope for after their little fight.

- -- - -- -

Hermione huffed and let her bag drop on the couch. "These people are absolutely… "

"Ah, you thought that ministry business was simple and pleasant." Draco walked in with a plate, which held two cups of coffee and a glass with something that looked like apple juice. "You should have asked me and I would have told you that the people who work for the ministry are narrow-minded, stubborn and most of all, stupid." He looked at them expecting confirmations and received a very angry glare from Hermione.

"I haven't mentioned that you're working for the ministry," Harry said, trying hard not to laugh.

"You are?" Draco took a sip of apple juice and sat on the couch next to Hermione. "That could be a good thing, I suppose. Unless you don't -" He turned and looked at Hermione, who was still glaring. "You're the same, so the ministry might be better these days."

"We're certainly working to make it better. Arthur discovered two wizards who were boycotting the school selection system and we managed to find new people to set things right."

"What's Weasley's position these days?"

"Minister of Magic."

Draco looked at them with an air of disbelief. "Even I would be a better minister than him."

Before Hermione could say anything, Harry intervened, "Arthur is a competent minister and he knows a lot about the way the ministry functions. He's a lot better than the previous ministers."

"Yes, Potter, but better than the previous ones doesn't mean he's the best there is right now, and I believe that's what we need. I mean, he might know how to run the ministry, but there are a lot of dubious people running around free. Do you think that no one wants power now? And they're not the kind who want to be minister of magic. That's not where the true power lies."

"And where is that?" Hermione asked, captured by Draco's speech.

"In the place formerly occupied by Tom."

"Tom?"

"Voldemort. Merlin, Granger, weren't the three of you inseparable?"

"No, we were -"

"You're right, Draco. Do you have a plan to make sure no one tries to become the next Dark Lord?" Harry asked, turning to Hermione.

"We have a program with the Aurors to report any strange behaviour that might -"

"At the beginnings, the Dark Lord held meetings in which his friends discussed spell development. It took five years for them to discuss muggle-borns at all."

"I can't imagine they didn't discuss it, if that was their primary concern throughout the war."

"They didn't have to discuss it. They were all purebloods - or at least claimed to be - and this was a given. What the ministry needs to look for is groups of people with a similar background."

"Yes, well, we can't start investigating on innocent people who don't -"

"No innocent person will be insulted, unless the Aurors don't do their jobs properly, and then there'll be more than insulting. If you really want to prevent that from happening again, you'll do that."

"We have so much to -"

"Granger! There are free Death Eaters who in a couple of years will start the war again. Is that what you want?"

Hermione looked down, but it was obvious that she wasn't convinced.

"Hermione, we gave Draco to a Death Eater. We investigated him and we couldn't figure out the truth about him. They're out there and I agree that we should do something about it."

"The Aurors can't handle something like that. They're too… unsubtle."

"Get a dozen Slytherins - I can give you the names of muggle born Slytherins who had nothing to do with the war - and get them to do these investigations for you, and after a couple of months you'll see if I was right or not."

"Why would you help us like that?" Hermione asked, studying Draco with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, it might have something to do with the fact that I'm Potter's slave and that the only way in which I can influence my life is by making sure he's happy with me and what I'm doing. That a good enough reason for you?"

Hermione looked down again. "Give me the list and I'll make a suggestion about it to Arthur."

"Granger, if the Death Eaters rise again, and you won't be able to stop them, it's you who has to worry, not me. I'll die on the first day of their reign."


End file.
